


Out of Place and Lost in Time

by Queerily_kai



Series: With You I'm Whole [1]
Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Artist Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes Feels, But not exactly, Gender Identity, Identity Porn, Idiots in Love, M/M, People Watching, Photography, Reunited and It Feels So Good, Social Anxiety, Trans Male Character, Writer Bucky Barnes, i'm not sure why im crying, kinda skinny steve, stalking in a cute way, they literally ride a train to the end of the line
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-08
Updated: 2017-02-08
Packaged: 2018-09-22 19:33:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9622460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Queerily_kai/pseuds/Queerily_kai
Summary: Steve is lost in the supermarket, talking to himself as he makes his way through the aisles.  James thinks its adorable, and not so stealthily stalks him.  And then Steve is in James' house, brought by a mutual friend, carrying pie.A tale of rediscovery, reinvention, and transformations.   Of an author and an artist. Of train rides to the beach in winter and pie like Ma used to make. And of course, a tale of idiots in love.





	

James wasn’t stalking the guy, not really.  The man had entered the store a few minutes before him, and it just worked out that he was kind of following the guy as they made their way through the aisles, adding items to red plastic baskets.  Maybe James had gone down a few aisles he could have skipped, knowing he didn’t need any canned vegetables or paper plates, but still, he wasn’t stalking the guy, and definitely wasn't going to continue following the guy once they left the store.  Definitely not.  

 

It had started with the bananas.  James had nearly bumped into the man, who had been standing in the middle of the produce department with an empty basket in his hand, looking lost.  

 

“I knew I should have made a list” James had heard the guy mumble as he gazed around the store.  James watched from the corner by the fruit display as the man wandered around the produce department aimlessly.  A few steps in one direction, hand reaching out, and then pulled away again, lips moving slightly as the man most likely continued to talk to himself.  Apparently he had changed his mind on the tomatoes. He walked past James, who was definitely not hiding behind the plums, moving decisively toward the display of banana’s.  

 

“Banana’s are good, I’ll eat those.”  The guy said, to nobody, placing a small bunch into his cart.  He then went back to staring again, eyes eventually locking onto the deli counter.  James dropped his bag of plums into his basket, and began following.  

 

“What do I need, what do I need…. Um… turkey and cheese.”  The guy continued to himself, apparently managing to make a decision.  “And i need to stop talking to myself.”  

 

James tried to hide his laughter as he added a package of tortillas and some hummus to his basket, listening to the guy continue mumbling to himself about cheddar versus swiss cheese.   

 

They continued through the store, James keeping his distance behind the man to avoid being noticed (but still close enough to hear him), adding items to his basket as he listened to the man talk to himself about chicken, and pasta, and bread.  

 

There was something about the guy that James found himself drawn to, this stranger felt oddly familiar but James was sure he had never seen the guy before.  He couldn’t deny that the guy was hot,  in that perfect all american way that wasn’t normally his type.  He wasn’t tall, but not exactly short either, probably around 5’9”, and thin without being skinny, making James wonder what kind of muscles the guy had hidden under his sweatshirt.   He looked up the aisle again to realize the guy had moved on, and quickly grabbed a can of soup off the shelf before moving on to the next aisle where he found the guy staring at a wall of crackers. 

  
  
  


“What the fuck is this?”  Sam asked, looking through the bags James had dumped on the kitchen counter.  

 

“Groceries?  What do you mean?”  James asked, looking confused.

 

“Well, technically you did buy food, I’ll give you that, but I don’t see any thing from the list I gave you.”  Sam replied, pulling out items from the bags, arranging everything on the counter. 

 

James looked at the random things he had grabbed, and cringed slightly in realization.  Plums, corn tortillas, eggplant hummus, cream of mushroom soup, some kind of sugar free knock off oreos, dinosaur shaped chicken nuggets, orange marmalade…

 

“I was a little distracted, I guess”  James mumbled in explanation.  

 

“You guess?  I’d say you were a lot distracted.” Sam replied, sounding annoyed “What’s his name?”

 

“I don’t know….” James replied, looking at his feet. “Didn’t talk to him”

 

Sam just shook his head, wishing this was a new situation.  

“This semi stalking thing is going to get you in trouble someday dude.  Someone is going to catch you, and they’re not going to like the ‘I’m a writer’ story.   You gotta find a different way to get your character inspiration.”

 

“I know, I just can’t help it.  People are really interesting sometimes.”  James said, sounding a little bit guilty. “How did you know it was a guy?”  James suddenly asked, looking up at Sam again. 

 

Sam just raised an eyebrow, gesturing toward the groceries on the table.  

“You were distracted through the entire store.  I’ve seen your crazy first hand enough times to know that only a hot guy can hold your attention for that long.”

 

James just nodded.

 

“You know, I should send your stupid ass back to the store so you can try again and actually buy the stuff on the list, but who knows what you might come back with this time.” Sam said, arms crossed as he glared at James.  “Go write.”  he told him, with a slightly defeated sigh,  “I know you have a few pages in your head you're itching to get out.   Just be showered and dressed by 5, before Nat and her friend get here.”

  
  
  


James went into his office and sat down in front of his computer.  Sam was kind of right, he did have some ideas about how to write the guy into one of his stories, but not in the way he usually did.  There were no full paragraphs in his head waiting to be put into text like he often had after observing someone.   It was different this time.  

 

He pulled up the notes on the novel he was currently working on, looking through the list of minor characters that needed to be fleshed out, but the guy didn’t seem to fit into any of them.  The guy didn’t want to be just a minor character who appeared in a chapter or two to push the plot forward.  He wanted his own story.   

 

James sat back and let his mind wander back to the store, and to the man he had followed that morning, remembering the small details.   He remembered the way the guy was analyzing the tags on the shelves, comparing prices. He was used to shopping on a budget, choosing items by best value rather than any kind of brand loyalty.  He bought ingredients intended to cook with, a bag of plain brown rice over one of the instant microwave, ready in 90 seconds, varieties. He had chosen the cheddar cheese that was on sale.   He bought a family size package of chicken, one that he could get multiple meals out of, and a bag of potatoes.   He was clearly buying enough food for a few days worth of meals, but not enough to be cooking for a family, so most likely single and used to cooking for one.   The lack of frozen ready to eat meals stood out the most for James, especially the way the man had scrunched his nose up at the display of TV dinners, like it was a modern convenience that he was offended by. 

 

The guy had an old fashioned practical feel, shoes and jacket that looked worn, but still functional and in decent enough condition.  Everything about him seemed planned out and efficient, but still high quality.  Levis jeans that were probably expensive, but could potentially last for years, like his Patagonia brand sweatshirt.  He had the look of a man who was once poor, and hadn’t gotten used to having money now.  He was a man caught out of time in a way, out of place, thrown into a new world he wasn’t sure how to fit into. 

 

Inspired, James sat up and opened a new blank word document on his computer.   

 

‘A man out of Time’  He typed, unsure of the title, but knowing it could change later.  A science fiction story flowed from his fingers, practically writing itself once he started, of a man, a soldier from the 1940’s who had found himself in battle against an unbelievable enemy, and found himself transported into the future.   He awoke in a strange land, a place that was home but wasn’t at the same time, and struggled to make a new life.  He was a man with a depression era mentality who found himself to be a millionaire thanks to 100 years worth of interest, baffled by modern technology and conveniences.  

James was thinking that he could probably turn this short story into a trilogy when a banging on the door snapped him back to reality.   

 

“Get your ass in the shower, James.  It’s almost 4:30!” Sam yelled.  

 

James just smiled.  Sam was a good guy, he thought, taking care of him like he was a helpless child.  Which he kind of was sometimes, especially when a deadline from his editor was approaching, and Sam reminded him to eat and sleep.  James’ next book was definitely going to be dedicated to Sam, as a thank you for everything. 

  
  


“So who is this guy Nat’s bringing anyway?”  James asked as he set the table.  He wasn’t a fan of people he didn’t know being invited to his house.

 

“He’s one of Nat’s friends from college, just moved here from Chicago” Sam replied  “I trust Nats judgement in friends.”   

 

James just nodded, knowing Sam was implying that he shouldn’t be worried about their guest.  It didn’t stop him from pacing around nervously, adjusting and re-adjusting the framed photos on shelves and books on the coffee table until the doorbell rang around 5:30.  Instead of opening the door, James ran up the stairs to his room.  Sam just watched him go with a sigh before opening the door for Natasha and her friend.  

 

Natasha gave a quick hug to Sam in greeting before heading into the kitchen to put the bottle of wine she was carrying in the fridge.  The blond man who was with her followed hesitantly, and stood in the corner holding a pie.   Sam took the pie from him, sensing his awkwardness and placed it on the counter. 

 

“Sam, this is my friend Steve” Natasha said, gesturing toward the blond.  “We met in college when we lived in the same dorm building, and he finally decided to move here.”

 

“Nice to meet you, Steve” Sam said, reaching out to shake his hand “Welcome to Brooklyn.  So what do you do?” 

 

“I’m an artist.” Steve answered, “mostly photography, but I do a fair amount of painting and charcoal drawing as well.”

 

“Which is related to why we are late.” Natasha interjected “Sorry about that, by the way.”

 

Sam just quirked an eyebrow, looking confused. 

 

“I showed up at Steve’s apartment, where he was supposed to be ready to go, and found him drawing in his studio instead, with streaks of charcoal all over his face and arms.  I had to drag him out of there and practically force him into the shower.” Natasha explained.  Steve had began blushing, and was trying to hide his face behind a hand.  “Apparently, some guy was following him around the grocery store this morning, doing a terrible job of being discreet about it. Instead of being creeped out, Steve here was inspired to draw the guy over and over again.” 

 

Steve was now beet red, looking like he wanted to disappear. “I thought we agreed you weren’t going to share that part of the story” Steve said. 

 

“I promised no such thing.” she replied, grinning. 

 

Sam just burst out laughing.  “Seriously?!” he exclaimed “Oh god, this is way too good.” 

 

“What is?” Nat asked, while Steve somehow managed to look even more embarrassed. Sam almost felt bad for the guy. 

 

“Oh, I think you’ll see soon enough. I am definitely going to enjoy this.” Sam answered. 

 

“So where is James?” Natasha asked, changing the subject.  Steve looked relieved to have the attention back off him. “Hiding?”

 

“Ran upstairs as soon as the doorbell rang.” Sam answered.  “I’ll go get him.  There’s beer in the fridge if you want, make yourselves comfortable.” 

 

Natasha went for the fridge, pulling out 2 bottles and handing one to Steve and leading him into the living room.  

 

“This place is really nice” Steve stated as he sat on a leather couch. “You said it’s James’, right?”  

 

“Yeah, he’s done well for himself as a writer.  Science fiction novels, mostly.” Natasha explained “Sam is his roommate, though i think he feels more like James’ babysitter some days.”

 

Steve smiled, remembering when Nat used to have to force him to stop painting for a few minutes and eat a sandwich when he got too into his work. “I wonder if I’ve read any of his books?” Steve asked vaguely. 

 

“Maybe” Natasha answered, “but he publishes under a pseudonym, and that’s an actual secret i’ve promised to keep. Sorry.” 

 

Steve just nodded, understanding the desire for secrecy, privacy really.   

 

After several minutes, they heard footsteps on the stairs again and Sam came into the living room, leading a reluctant James by the hand. 

 

“Hey, James” Natasha said as they came in “good to see you.”

 

“Hi Nat” James replied quietly, looking extremely anxious. 

 

“This is my friend Steve” She introduced, gesturing to the man on the couch next to her. 

 

James looked up, and froze with his mouth half open, staring in shock at Steve. 

 

Steve was looking back with an almost identical expression. 

 

“Why are you in my house?” James exclaimed. 

 

“Why were you following me?” Steve exclaimed at the exact same time. 

 

“I was invited!” Steve yelled in explanation, as James stormed out of the room and into the kitchen.  A few seconds later they heard a door slide open, and then closed again. 

 

Steve stayed on the couch, nearly frozen in place as he stared at the doorway James had just disappeared through.  “That’s the guy from the store.” He finally managed. 

 

Sam burst out laughing, again. Nat hit him, and shot him a disapproving look. 

“You knew” She stated. 

“I guessed” Sam corrected.

“And you let him freak out like that anyway.” Nat replied. 

“He was going to freak out no matter what.” Sam explained. 

“Is he ok?” Steve asked, looking worried now. 

“He’ll be fine, he just doesn’t do well with new people, or people in general really. He’s probably just pacing around the patio smoking a cigarette.” Sam explained, turning a little more serious. 

“Can I…or should...” Steve trailed off, pointing toward the door. 

“You can try.” Sam answered with a shrug.  

  
  


Steve opened the door and stepped out onto the patio cautiously.  As Sam predicted, James was pacing at the edge of the stone patio, looking toward the small yard with a cigarette between his fingers.  

 

“Hi.” Steve said. “I wanted to say that earlier, at the store, but you ran off before I got a chance.”  

Bucky stilled for a moment, but didn’t turn around or say anything. 

“I don’t think it’s weird you know, what you were doing.”  Steve continued.  “I mean I think I understand it.  I sat in a park for 2 hours last week, half hidden behind a bush.  I was sketching a couple that was having a picnic.  I was nervous that they would see me. I was ready to run away the whole time.”

 

James sat in a wooden chair at the corner of the patio, glancing at Steve through his hair, long strands hanging over his face, and lit another cigarette.  

 

Steve took it as an invitation to continue. 

“I’m sorry for being here.  Not that I’m not glad to meet you, but I’m sorry it means I’m invading your space.  Natasha is the only person I let into my studio.  I’m an artist, if you didn’t know already. I trust her to be in my safe space, and I would hate if she brought a stranger in, so I’m surprised that she would invite me here, to yours. It’s almost like she’s made it her mission to help me make friends here though, so, awkward.”

 

James just nodded, taking a long drag off his cigarette and staring at the glowing end.  Steve took it as an agreement, that James was saying he wasn’t welcome. 

“I can leave if you want.  I won’t stay if you don’t want me to.  Just tell me and I’m gone.” Steve offered.

 

“It’s ok. Stay.” James replied, looking over at Steve through the corner of his eye. “It’s not your fault.”

 

“Thank you” Steve replied, feeling relieved. 

 

James stood and walked toward Steve, looking at him intently. Steve was starting to feel uncomfortable with the way he was being stared at.  

“Do I know you from somewhere?” James finally asked. 

“Um, I don’t think so?” Steve replied.  James somehow felt familiar to Steve as well, but he couldn’t remember why, or from where. Maybe James just had one of those faces, or was reminding him of someone different. 

“I’m going to figure it out, eventually” James told him. “Let’s go back inside.”

 

Steve understood that the conversation, the moment, was over and followed him back through the door into the kitchen.  Neither of them were surprised to find that Sam and Natasha had moved to the breakfast nook, where there was a clear view of the patio.  

_ In case I freaked out and they had to intervene.  _ Bucky thought. 

 

Sam looked at James, making eye contact for a moment and James just nodded in return. A confirmation that all was well.  

 

“Is everyone ready for dinner?” Sam asked hopefully, hoping to serve the chicken before it went from kept warm to dried out.

 

“Definitely” Natasha replied, moving toward the fridge to pull out the bottle of wine she had brought.  “It smells delicious.” 

 

Sam got to work finishing up the meal, and was soon placing a big bowl of pasta in marinara sauce on the table, along with spinach and feta stuffed chicken breasts, warm rolls and a salad.   The silence as they ate would have been awkward if they didn’t all have mouths full of food. 

 

“So how are you liking Brooklyn so far Steve?” Sam asked once everyone was settled in at the table.  

 

“It's been interesting so far.” Steve answered. “I haven't been in NY since I was a kid, so it's weird to compare my old memories to the real world now that I’m here again.  I was 14 when my mom and I moved out of Brooklyn to the suburbs of Chicago.”  

 

“I guess welcome home then.” Sam replied. “Do you still have family around here? Is that what brought you back?” 

 

Sam flinched slightly and glared at Natasha, who had kicked him under the table. “Sorry, I’m asking way too many questions.” He apologized. 

 

“Haha, it’s fine.” Steve answered with a smile, “No family here anymore.  As much as Nat would love to believe I’m here to be closer to her, It’s actually a commision from Tony Stark that brought 

me back. And a private gallery show Tony also arranged.”

 

“Stark?” Sam asked “That sounds impressive.”

 

“I guess so, I would go with terrifying first though.  He kinda owns half of New York.” Steve admitted. 

 

James didn’t talk at all during dinner, but started paying more attention when Steve mentioned growing up in Brooklyn.  Sam noticed the way he was staring at Steve, lost in thought, and was tempted to lecture him about being rude. Steve looked over at him and seemed to notice, but didn’t seem bothered by it, so Sam let it go.  

 

They eventually moved back to the living room, and the conversation got more relaxed as they had a few more drinks and ate pie.  James still didn’t talk, but he didn’t disappear into his office either, so kind of a win in Sam’s opinion.  Steve talked about the pieces he was planning for Tony’s commission (to go into the conference room and lobby of a new building) and the gallery show, Sam talked about his work at the VA, and Natasha complained about all the drama at the ballet studio where she taught.  James ate 3 slices of the pie Steve had brought, which he made from his mom’s recipe, and looked back and forth between Steve and his plate as if they were clues to some giant mystery.  

  
  


It was 2 days later when Steve's phone buzzed with a text alert, snapping him out of a daydream.  He had been sitting at his computer for hours, going through photos in Lightroom trying to find something that fit Tony’s request for something ‘Abstract industrial’ for one of the conference rooms, or ‘colorful and geometric’ for another area. 

 

Unknown number-  Hey, it’s James.   Ride the train with me.

Steve- Which train? And to where?  

James - To the end of the line.  

James - The Q to Coney Island.  Unless you’re busy.

Steve - I’m trying to be, but not really getting anything done, so sure. Let’s go. 

 

Steve tried not to overthink the situation as he got dressed to meet up with James at the edge of Prospect Park. It seemed to be the most central location between them, and Steve found himself missing the simplicity of Chicago’s El system as he looked over the map of the Brooklyn trains to work out how to get to the Q line from Gowanus.    Something about the situation felt way too familiar, but Steve wouldn’t let himself believe that this man was his former best friend, despite all the evidence saying he was.  

 

The pie, and riding the train, and Coney Island in the winter, it was too much to be a coincidence.  “What happened to you, Buck?”   Steve thought to himself as he slung his camera bag over his shoulder and headed out the door. 

 

James was leaning against a wall near the D line tracks when Steve got off the train.  He didn’t talk, but acknowledged Steve with a small wave and a smile. 

“Been waiting long?”  Steve asked as they started walking toward the Q train platform.

“Not really, less than 10 minutes.  No big deal.” James answered. 

They didn’t talk until they were on the train, heading south to Coney Island.

 

“So.”  Steve finally said, “Any particular reason for riding the train today?”

“I don’t know.”  James answered with a shrug “writers block I guess.  It took me 2 hours to write 100 words that I’ll probably erase later.”

“Sounds familiar.” Steve said with a light laugh  “My attempt at editing photos this morning turned out to be just staring at images on my screen.  I guess I’ve been a little distracted lately.”  

“Something about the trains help me clear my mind and focus, I don’t mind all the people for some reason.  Normally I can’t stand crowds.” James explained, gaze focused on a group of teenagers taking selfies near the door at the other end of the car.  

“So is this another one of your hobbies when you’re not stalking people in grocery stores?  People watching on trains?” Steve asked.

“Sort of” James said with a smile. “I like the public anonymity of it.  Were all trapped together in a metal box, underground, and trying to stay private, even though no one can hide.  You can learn a lot about people in general without any pressure to talk to them.”

“It is kind of nice.” Steve agreed. “It’s been years since I’ve just ridden a train like this without the stress of meetings or appointments to get too.  I used to do it pretty often before we moved out of Brooklyn though. Just relax into the rocking of the train car.”

 

James just looked at Steve, an odd look on his face like he was lost in a memory, studying Steves face. It was the same way he was looking at Steve while he was eating the pie a few nights before. 

“What are you looking at?” Steve asked, nearly whispering.

“My friend, I hope.” James replied.

“I think I’d like that” Steve replied with a smile. 

 

They didn’t talk much more for the rest of the way, other than pointing out passengers that caught their attention to each other.   Steve had pulled out a pencil and sketchbook and started filling pages with rough sketches of passengers and the passing scenery.   James had a notebook out also, and occasionally made quick notes, but he mostly just watched everything going on around him. 

 

“So where to first” Steve asked as they stepped off the train once they had reached the end. 

“The boardwalk” James replied quickly. “That’s were the most interesting people usually are.”

“Lead the way” Steve replied, pulling up his collar and zipping up his coat to block the cold winter wind. 

 

It had snowed the night before, still bright white on the boardwalk.  It was almost surprising compared to the grey-brown slush in the streets around the train station and the rest of Brooklyn. Steve found himself smiling despite the brutal cold wind, seeing both the ‘colorful geometric’ and ‘abstract industrial’ that Tony wanted in the closed up shops and rides.  

 

“This is perfect” Steve said, sounding excited as he stopped to pull out his camera. 

“Feeling inspired?”  James asked, watching Steve press buttons and turn dials as he changed the settings on his camera.

“Yeah, you don’t mind if I do some work, do you?” He asked.

“Not at all, Stevie.” James replied “Do your thing.”  

 

Steve took off and began shooting, as James followed looking amused.  Steve tried not to think too much about James calling him ‘Stevie’, wondering where the nickname had suddenly come from.   After about half an hour, the sun was mostly behind clouds, and the warm light that had inspired Steve was gone.  He put his camera away, and noticed that James wasn’t nearby anymore.  He found him after a few minutes, leaning against a railing and watching a group of people building a snowman on the beach. 

 

“Let’s go get some food, Buck.” He said, sliding in next to him  “It’s cold out here.”

James whipped around to look at Steve, expression shifting from amused to angry in an instant.

“What did you just say?”  He snapped. 

“Let’s get food?  It’s cold?” Steve answered, looking confused. 

“No, you called me Buck.” James practically shouted “How the fuck… why would you..” He was stuttering slightly, too angry to get the words out. 

“So it is you.” Steve said, looking sad.  “I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean to say it, I just thought... it just slipped out.”

James didn’t reply, just crossed his arms and glared at Steve. 

“I’m serious about being cold.  Can we at least get out of the wind before we have this conversation?” Steve pleaded. 

 

James nodded with a huff, and strode off toward Nathans, the only place open in the area.  They were sitting in a corner booth with hotdogs and fries before either of them spoke again. 

“Alright, it’s warm now.” James announced after eating a couple bites of his hot dog. “Now tell me who the fuck you are.”

“I think you already know” Steve said, avoiding eye contact. 

“I’m not in the mood for games. Tell me.” James replied, still glaring. 

“Stephanie Grant.”  Steve said, so quiet that James barely heard him. 

 

James continued to stare, expression softening as he processed what Steve had said. 

 

“I thought it was you when I saw you in the store, but I wasn’t sure until you asked me to ride the train.  I’m sorry, I didn’t want to lie to you.” Steve tried to explain. 

 

“No one has called me Buck, or Bucky since you left.  I went back to James cause it just felt easier, less of a reminder. Punched a couple of guys who still insisted on calling me Bucky.”  James stated.  “So were you ever planning on telling me?”

 

“I don’t know” Steve answered. “I mean, I wanted to, but the whole ‘I used to be a girl’ conversation isn’t exactly easy to bring up.   I guess I thought it would be easier to just kind of start over, and let us start fresh as Steve and James, instead of trying to be Steph and Bucky again.”

 

James just nodded in understanding.  He had to admit that it made sense after 16 years to start over. 

“So when did you, uh, start being Steve?” James asked hesitantly. 

“When I was 20, a few years after mom died.  I moved out of my aunt and uncle's house in Evanston, and got in apartment in Chicago with some friends.  I met some people in the queer art community, and felt like I fit in a way I hadn’t before.  I met a couple other trans-guys and had this amazing revelation that I was like them, I finally knew why I had felt different my whole life.  I never lied to you, before. I didn’t really know back then.”  Steve explained. 

 

“I started binding my chest, and started introducing myself as Steve, and went by male pronouns, and things just started to feel more and more right.  I started hormones when I was 22, testosterone injections every 2 weeks, and had surgery to remove my breasts when I was 25.  Insurance barely covered it, so It took a long time to save up the money.”

 

James was smiling when Steve looked up again.  “I’m happy for you, and proud of you for going through all that.” He said, looking like his anger had finally passed. “I think somehow I always knew that you weren’t really a girl, subconsciously at least.  You always seemed different somehow to the rest of the girls in school.”  

 

Steve just laughed.  “I spent a lot of time in therapy, when I first came out, trying to figure out how  the fuck it took me so long to figure it out.  It seems so obvious now when I remember back to when we were kids.”

 

“Sometimes the obvious is the hardest thing to see.” James said with a shrug. “I’m glad I finally get to meet the real you.”  

 

They finished up their hotdogs, and made their way back to the train.  

“Do you have plans tonight?” Steve asked as they made their way up the stairs to the train platform. 

“Not really.” James answered. “Got something in mind”

“I was going to make Shepherd's pie for dinner, from my mom’s recipe.” Steve answered.  “I think I remember that being one of your favorites, if you want to come over.”

“Sounds perfect.” James answered “I think we have a lot more to talk about anyway.”

  
  


They didn’t talk much as they rode the D train back to Steve's loft in Gowanus, aside from random comments about childhood memories.

“Remember that time when we spent our train money on hot dogs and ended up trying to hitchhike home from Rockaway Beach?” James asked

“Haha, yeah. The only ride we could get was in the back of a freezer truck.  I remember huddling together and shivering the whole way back.” Steve answered. 

“Or when I kept trying to win that ring toss game to get some stupid stuffed bear.” James continued. 

“You were trying to impress that redhed.  You thought she was flirting with you, but I remember you spending $20 bucks while she laughed about how you were an idiot for trying so many times.” Steve replied. 

“She’s not the one I was trying to impress.” James told him with a shy grin.

“You impressed me without trying, Buck.” Steve replied, grinning back. “Can I call you that? Calling you James feels weird. But I guess so does calling me Steve, probably…”

“It’s fine, Stevie, it’s good actually” Bucky responded, interrupting Steve from his overthinking. “It would be weird for you to call me James anyway. Punk.”

“Jerk.” Steve replied, as the callback had always been.

 

They went on that way the whole trip back, keeping the conversation light with ‘remember whens’ mixed in with commentary on the other train passengers.   It was nearly dark when they reached Steve’s stop and walked a couple blocks to an old brick building that looked like a warehouse.  James looked a little nervous as Steve led him through a large metal door, and then onto a freight elevator

 

Steve led them off at the top floor, where even in the low light Bucky could see high ceilings and exposed beams and hardwood floors. And large windows, letting in the last light of the day, the final orange glow from the sunset just a few minutes before.   Steve turned on the lights, giving the space a warm, golden glow, and began a brief tour.  There was a wall, dividing the space into living and working halves, that didn’t reach the ceiling.   One corner had kitchen appliances and countertops against 2 walls, and another corner was curtained off hiding Steve’s bed.  A third corner was walled off to make a bathroom.  There was a small kitchen table and chairs, a couple couches that looked like they had never been sat on, and a tv taking up the rest of the living space.  

 

“This is the smaller side” Steve explained. “I haven't done much with  it yet, mostly been working on the studio so far.  I wanted most of the space to work in, so i could create the large desk with multiple monitors i’d been dreaming of for a while, and a dark room, and space for easels, and it's been amazing to actually have this for real, and to have the space to really create, and I’m rambling.” Steve cut off, noticing that bucky was just staring at him. “Sorry, I have a lot of ideas for this place that I’m excited about.”  He blushed slightly as Bucky grinned at him.”

 

“Understandable.” Bucky replied.  “I always knew you would make it with your art.  Glad someone finally convinced you how good you are, cause you never listened to me.”  

 

“Yeah, but you were my best friend, you can never really trust close friends or family for a serious, honest critique on your work.” Steve replied.  Bucky just nodded, knowing that he wouldn’t have believed it either if Steve had told him years ago that his writing was good. 

 

They stood awkwardly in the middle of the room, looking at eachother for a moment, updating the mental image of their best friend.   It was almost surreal. 

 

Steve broke away first.  “I promised dinner.  Mom’s shepherd's pie.” he said, moving toward the kitchen.  “Want something to drink?” 

 

“Sure” Bucky replied, following Steve toward the fridge.  

 

“Umm, shit.” Steve groaned as he opened the door.  “I have water or orange juice.  I probably should have bought a few things besides shepherds pie ingredients when I was at the store this morning.”  

 

Bucky just laughed quietly.

“I really can’t comment on anything grocery shopping related, so… Uh… Is there a store nearby? I could go get some beer. Or wine?”

 

“Yeah” Steve replied with a smile, “go left out the door we came in, and there's a bodega a block and a half down the street.”

 

“Perfect. I’ll be back soon, and I’ll be out of your way for a bit so you can get dinner organized. And I assume getting your weapons ready to beat me when I try to taste.  I still remember the bruise you gave me after I stole bacon of a tray once.” 

 

“Haha, I remember that bruise well. I was pretty proud of it.” Steve replied  “And just think of how much stronger I’ve been able to get from the testosterone injections.”

 

Bucky cringed slightly at the thought “I almost forgot how much you like starting fights” He said, slipping back into his jacket and heading for the elevator. 

 

Bucky had returned with a 12 pack of beers, and sat at the small table while Steve cooked, and Steve sat with him while he waited for potatoes to boil, and onions to caramelize, or gravy to thicken.  And a couple hours later, the were eating. 

 

Steve closed his eyes and he slowly chewed his first bite, a tear forming in the corner of his eye. He took a deep breath, trying to play it off as the food being too hot, but the tears kept coming , betraying him until he was flat out crying.  Bucky reached across the table to grab his hand.  “It’s perfect Stevie.” He said, squeezing gently, “you made it just how i remember her’s being”.  

 

Steve just nodded.  “She would have been happy you're here.” Steve said, looking up at Bucky “That we found each other again.  And I really, really miss her Buck, and I hate that she never really got to meet me, as her son.  I really hope she would have liked me. But I think I’m happy too right now.  And Fuck.  I can’t fucking stop crying.”  

 

Bucky stood up, grabbing Steves hand to pull him to his feet as well. Tears were starting to form in his own eyes as he pulled Steve into a hug. “What are you doing?” he asked, voice muffled into Bucky’s shoulder 

 

“I’m crying too.  And we’re hugging.  Because I really miss her too, and the food came out perfect, and I know that she would be proud of her son, and I’m happy you came back.”

 

They stood together next to the table, arms around each other as sobs gave way to deep breaths and sniffles, and they slowly pulled  apart to sit back down again, fingers remaining entwined as they finished eating dinner in silence.

 

Later, they were sitting on a couch, shoulders and thighs brushing against each other as Bucky flipped through Netflix, not talking. Bucky paused for a moment, staring at the screen, and then turned the TV off and set down the remote, apparently changing his mind about watching a movie.

 

“I wrote about you, you know.” Bucky told him, “Or about Stephanie, I guess I should say.” 

“You did?” Steve asked, sounding surprised. 

“Of course I did, you were my best friend.  I named the character Stella Gray, and she’s still one of my favorites.” Bucky explained. 

“Wait. Stella Grey?  The one who saves the whole ship in  _ The Deception of Mars?” _

Bucky just nodded.  “You know it?” He asked.

“Holy shit, yeah, I know it.  I wrote a paper on it actually, on Stella specifically.  It was for a class in college called  _ Women of Sci Fi. _  Most of the girls in the class hated the book, saying that Stella was weak, and argued that the book shouldn’t have been part of the course.” 

Bucky just nodded again.  “I’m familiar with that opinion.”

“I didn’t think so though.” Steve continued “She may have seemed weak at the beginning, but she was just plotting.  She saw the whole situation differently from the very start, and made sure to put herself in the center of the final battle.  She wanted to be seen as weak, as an easy target because she knew that the commander would want to use someone as bait.  She wasn’t some meek little girl who just obeyed orders and was unlucky enough to be thrown out there as bait,             she manipulated everyone to ensure she would be put there. And she didn’t just get lucky either, she had a plan the whole time.” 

“Because she was smart, but quiet about it. She observed everything going on around her and figured out everyone else's weaknesses without drawing attention to herself. And most importantly, she figured out how to use those weaknesses to her advantage.  People hate the character because they don’t understand her. They don’t want to believe that she would plan to be shot.” Bucky continued. 

“Holy Shit.” Steve mumbled “You’re Jay Winters.”

“I am” Bucky Confirmed. “And you’re Stella Grey.”

 

Steve sat quiet for a moment, staring at a speck of paint on his pants.  

“Is that really how you saw me?” He asked. 

“Remember when you got Brock Rumlow to punch you in the face so he would get suspended?  You knew he had been bullying the new kid, but couldn’t prove it, and none of the teachers would do anything cause he was a football player.  You sat near him and his goons in study hall for 2 weeks, drawing while pretending to listen to music with your giant headphones.  He talked, because he thought you wouldn’t hear, and didn’t see you as any kind of threat anyway, until one day you figured out his trigger.  You said something to him about a dog and he punched you in the face.  Your comment didn’t sound like an insult to anyone else so even the teachers who heard you didn’t understand why he would have punched you for it. Instant suspension.”

“Wow.  And you turned me getting punched by some stupid jock into a whole novel.” Steve was smiling now.  “I guess Stephanie Grant was kind of a badass sometimes.”

“Yeah, and I’m guessing Steve Rogers is too.” Bucky replied, grinning back at him. 

  
  


“Think you’ll write about me again?”  Steve asked.

 

“I already am, If that's ok with you.”  Bucky replied, looking slightly embarrassed. “Brian Casey, a soldier from the 40’s who fought nazi’s as part of some secret special ops unit called the howling commandos.  The enemy had some kind of weapon made with unknown technology that emitted a laser like force field.  Things would sometimes just disappear when they were using the weapon, but it was also killing the enemy very efficiently, vaporizing anything the laser touched, so they didn’t care about the things disappearing.  So Casey and his commandos are in the middle of battle when he vanishes, gets sucked through some kind of black hole and comes back out in a cave way up in Siberia.  Somehow the black hole changes him too, makes him super strong, the cold of the siberian winter doesn’t bother him, and a science team finds him walking through the tundra, -30 fahrenheit, and he's just fine in a t-shirt.  He’s also traveled about 100 years into the future, and has to learn about everything that changed, and that he missed, and figure out what to do with his new powers.”

 

“Does he turn out ok?” Steve asked, smiling at the plot that Bucky had explained. “Does he figure it all out?”

“I think he does, Stevie, cause Casey is a good man at heart, and will always make a sacrifice to do what's right, and he’s strong enough to get through it all and start over and make a good life.”  Bucky smiled back at Steve. “And I was thinking, maybe he had a friend with him, in the commando’s, and he’s not the only one who got pulled through to the future. Maybe they find eachother again, and start over and figure out this new life together.”

 

“Is this still a plot idea, or are you trying to ask me out right now.” Steve asked, taking Bucky’s hand.

“Can it be both?” Bucky asked, nervously.

“That sounds perfect” Steve answered. “Now, can I kiss you like I’ve wanted to do since we were 12?”

“12 for you too, huh?” Bucky replied grinning “When we made the blanket fort during winter vacation and refused to come out until we had to go back to school?”

“Since then.” Steve replied.

“We’re both idiots.” Bucky laughed and pulled Steve close, pressing their lips together.  

 

The kiss was 16 years late, and they would both later describe it as perfect.  

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading everyone! I got the idea for the grocery store scene while I was actually in a grocery store, talking to my self about Banana's much like how Steve does in the beginning of this story. Before I knew it, Steve is a trans-man who was last in NY before starting transition, and the characters were taking over. 
> 
> I have potential ideas to maybe add more stories to this verse, probably making it a series. perhaps a flashback to Steve and Clint as queer artists, living in a Chicago punk house, expanding more into the queer side of this story, and perhaps touching on Bucky's education on dating (and sleeping with) a transman and his reaction to Steves strap-on collection. And Steve has to learn to be supportive of Bucky's social anxiety, and his reaction to social event's like gallery openings, or pressure to "unmask" from his publisher and attend a convention. 
> 
> So please, let me know If you want to read more of these 2, and what stories interest you!


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